The Dawning of Power

Chapter 14

Fanaticism is a plague. It threatens the fabric of our world and must be stopped regardless of the cost. -Von of the Elsics

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady," Mother Gwendolin croaked, wagging her finger at Catrin in a good-natured way. "Please, tell me of your experience. The unknown is driving me to distraction."

"How long was I gone?" Catrin asked, her own voice still rough and grating.

"Fourteen days."

Fourteen days! Catrin was stunned. Her journey had felt like little more than an afternoon jaunt, but then she recalled the cycles of light and dark during Prios's attack, and she surmised that he had somehow affected her perception of time. She didn't hate him for it, convinced he had been coerced, but she also realized she was lucky to have survived. After weeks of fasting, her body had been in no condition to sustain her.

"We had to train every monk available to keep up the ritual chanting, and there's not a clear voice left in the hold. Benjin insisted upon being at your side, and he underwent a condensed version of the purification ritual. He never slept; he just sat with you and held your hand. We were worried beyond reason, and I fear he blames me for endangering you. He sleeps now, though he'll be wroth with me when he wakes. I slipped a bit of sedative into his tea."

Guilt stabbed at Catrin, and she resolved herself to set Benjin straight about a few things when she saw him next, but she was so weary. Her journey had taken its toll, and she wasn't certain she would ever be whole again; she felt disconnected and isolated. She seemed more of a spectator than a participant in life, tucked away in her bed, and she yearned to move about, but her body resisted her attempts.

"The journey was dangerous," Catrin said after a moment's consideration. "But it was made disastrous by means of outside interference. Someone was coerced into interfering with my journey. I know it; I could feel it. You did not place me in danger. My enemies did that. Regardless, I bear momentous news. One of the Statues of Terhilian has been found and is being excavated."

Her words seemed to ring Mother Gwendolin's reality like a bell. She sat in stunned silence, unable to formulate a response.

"I followed a trail of pilgrims to their destination, and there I found the bones of the great beast, but it was the exposed face of Istra, on the opposite side of the mountain, that drew the throng. I looked upon her, and she shone back at me. I cannot say for certain what others saw, only my perception of it."

Tears slid down Mother Gwendolin's tired face, and her breath shuddered when she made to speak. "This is the worst possible news, and it comes on the heels of other ill tidings. General Dempsy has returned from the Godfist with only three of his ships. He's spreading a wild tale of destruction that lays total blame at your feet. He claims you destroyed his armies in cold blood, single-handedly, leaving a trail of gore wherever you trod. He has joined with the forces gathering to assault Ohmahold, and we have word they are constructing monstrous siege engines."

General Dempsy was the man who led the siege on the Godfist. Now she had a name, which granted her power, and Catrin stored the information away.

"The Greatland is on the verge of widespread famine and starvation," Mother Gwendolin continued. "Drought and the lack of capable hands threaten to leave thousands without food. The armies have conscripted the majority of able-bodied persons along with the majority of the livestock, and the seeds of war are all that have been sown. Our civilization is on a path to destruction, and events are moving faster than anyone could have foreseen. And now a Statue of Terhilian enters the fray. It is hard to believe, but I do believe you. If you say you have seen the face of Istra, I believe you. I just have no idea what to do about it."

Catrin could empathize. The news was all very overwhelming, and she could find no suitable course of action to take. Depression settled on her, and she shook herself physically to dislodge it. "I need to get out of this bed."

"I suppose we could walk a bit if you are feeling well enough, but we should not go too far."

Sudden flashes of memory returned, images of tomes and artifacts obfuscated by a thick layer of dust. Catrin recalled her frantic return and the wondrous sight that had caught her attention. "I don't mean to pry, but are you aware of a large hall, within Ohmahold, that is filled with books, swords, and a variety of oddities covered in dust?" she asked.

"I'm not aware of any such hall. How did you come to know of it? There is no place in this hold that is allowed to accumulate so much dust."

"When I was returning from the south, the strange presence confused me and I was lost. I came back into Ohmahold through the stone, and during my journey, I passed through the hall. I think I could find it."

Curiosity seemed to overcome Mother Gwendolin's reluctance to tax Catrin's strength, but not without due consideration. "Are you certain you feel strong enough? Is it far?"

"I want to try. I'm not certain how far it is, but I'll let you know if I get too tired." In truth, she was already weary, but her own curiosity drove her onward. She could sleep when she knew what the mysterious room actually contained. Perhaps some lost volume held the answers to her questions. She let her instincts and her memories guide her to the area she had passed through. The trail led them to the maze that secured the entrance of the Inner Sanctuary. "It's in there."

"Are you certain? We've mapped the entire labyrinth, and only the halls that bear the death symbols remain unexplored. You see, the ancients left us a code that we use to identify the safe passages within the labyrinth, and the defensive halls are marked with specific patterns of symbols."

"It's this way," Catrin said as she grabbed a lantern and led the way into the maze. She followed her instincts, and Mother Gwendolin confirmed the safety of every corridor before they entered it. Letting Mother Gwendolin concentrate on remembering where they were, Catrin concentrated on where they were going.

"I've never walked this part of the maze before. This passage is almost never used to my knowledge, for it leads nowhere. There are only death passages leading from it," Mother Gwendolin said, but Catrin walked in anyway. This was the passage, every bit of instinct and guidance she had pointed just beyond it. When they reached a four-way junction, Catrin stopped, and Mother Gwendolin carefully inspected the markings. Catrin was not certain which of the decorations were significant and which were frivolous.

"All these corridors are death chambers. We can go no farther this way."

Catrin used her senses to peer ahead. The corridor that stood directly across from her was the one; she knew it. "What exactly are the death chambers?" she asked.

"We don't know every variation, but they are filled with traps, many triggered by pressure plates. Some will crush you under a pile of rock, while others impale their victims on sharpened stakes. None has been triggered in my lifetime, and I'm uncertain what exactly lies down that corridor." Driven by an impulse, Catrin strode into the hall, and Mother Gwendolin drew a sharp intake of breath.

Nothing happened.

Catrin's steps did not falter, and she did not hesitate. She let her confidence carry her farther along the hall, and still nothing happened.

Mother Gwendolin conquered her own fears and joined her. She took Catrin's hand and held it in her own. "You are very brave. Are you certain you wish to go deeper? We could both die."

"I'm willing to risk my life. I believe I'm right, but I'll not ask you to risk yours, nor can I ask another to go in my stead. This is mine to do."

"And I have faith in you. I believe in you, and I'll walk beside you in this," Mother Gwendolin said, tightening her grip on Catrin's hand. With a squeeze in return, Catrin strode ahead. A small part of her mind warned against arrogance, but she knew she was safe; this was the way. The two walked, hand in hand, in the lamplight, and when they reached a corner, they each began to breathe again. Resting for a moment, they prepared themselves for what lay ahead. Then they turned the corner together.

Awaiting them was a sight beyond even Catrin's expectations, her memories accounting for only a small fraction of what she saw before her. Row upon row of shelves stood in ranks, lined with hide-bound tomes. Racks of weapons lined the walls, and enormous tapestries hung high above. Fantastically complex devices filled a large corner of the hall, and the sight of them sparked the imagination: Who knew what wondrous purpose they could serve? So much of what she saw was foreign and unidentifiable that it was overwhelming. Mother Gwendolin stood at her side, bereft of words. Her hands were plastered to the sides of her face, and she simply stared in wonder.

The rush of the excitement faded immediately, though, as shouts echoed loudly through the halls and the sound of many booted feet shattered the silence. It was muffled and distorted in the great hall, but its portent was clear: something was very wrong. Mother Gwendolin immediately bolted from the hall and rushed back to the maze. Catrin was close on her heels, her exhaustion banished by fear. When they gained the mighty stair, Mother Gwendolin shouted to those above.

"What is it?"

"Men down in the pastures," someone called back. "Enemy in the hold!"

A chill ran up Catrin's spine, and the words drove her feet. She and Mother Gwendolin pounded up the stair, following a stream of armed men and women. Benjin charged among them, some three turns above her, and still Catrin wondered at his appearance without his hair. He had let it grow for so long, and she felt guilty for getting herself into trouble. Otherwise, she was certain he would not have allowed his head to be shaved.

The effort of the climb and the close quarters, jostling as they climbed, started to wear on Catrin, and she felt light-headed. When they finally reached the upper level, the throng poured onto the plateau and surrounded the highest pasture. In the center of the pasture lay two still forms flanked by two foals that wailed in their mourning.

"Vertook! Brunson!" Catrin shrieked as she ran headlong toward the bodies, her heart pounding. No enemy showed themselves. There was nothing but serenity surrounding the two dead men. When she drew close enough to make out the details, she saw the shafts of arrows protruding from their backs. Bright red fletching caught the light and shone like a beacon of death. The pain in her chest made her wonder if she would die of a broken heart.

The burst of energy she used to get there wore thin, and emotions overwhelmed her. Grief and anger flared high. Deep-seated fears and regrets were merciless in their assault. Leaning to one side, her knees buckled. Mother Gwendolin stepped in front of her and reached out to catch her. Catrin hit the ground hard, and she wondered a moment that Mother Gwendolin had failed to catch her.

Mother Gwendolin stood, frozen, her face locked in a look of extreme shock. The color drained from her face, and a crimson rose bloomed on her smock. She crumbled to the ground in the next instant, and Catrin cried out in horror. A shaft protruded from Mother Gwendolin's back, and the plateau exploded with activity. Two archers had been hidden among high rock formations, but they had revealed themselves to take the shot.

Guards climbed toward them, but one assassin turned and leaped off the cliffs to his death. The other nocked an arrow and drew. Three arrows struck him before he could release, and his shot flew high over Catrin's head. With a scream of agony and frustration, the second assassin fell from the cliff.

Catrin was mired in confusion-everything had happened so fast. Unwilling to believe this was real, she prayed it was all a dream and waited for something to wake her, but nothing did. Rough hands grabbed her and pulled her from the plateau, back into shelter. When her eyes met those of Captain Longarm, tears blurred her vision, and she barely recognized him. He gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry for your losses, Lady Catrin, and we'll all grieve Mother Gwendolin, but I must get you to safety. We don't know if there are more men laying in wait, and I'll not take any chances with your life," he said as he guided her to a hall filled with the largest table she'd ever seen. With a highly polished surface, the table looked as if it had been carved in place. Hooded monks already occupied many of the chairs surrounding it, but no one acknowledged Catrin when she arrived.

The mood in the air was appropriately somber, but Catrin found it oppressive. She could not seem to comprehend the day's events. Everything seemed to be happening around her, but she did not feel a part of it. She had no influence on the course of events.

"What was she doing on the plateau?" Sister Velona raged as she entered the hall, her face revealed by her erratic movements, and her tirade broken only by random bouts of sobbing. "How could anyone have been so foolish as to allow her safety to be jeopardized in such a way? Your incompetence has been fatal this time. Boil you all!" News traveled fast around Ohmahold, and those of station soon packed the hall. The gamut of emotions was expressed, shouted, cried, and rehashed.

"To the harpies with the Zjhon and their evil ways! They must be stopped," one man shouted as he pounded his fists on the table.

"Hang those who allowed her to go into harm's way," another demanded, but cooler heads prevailed, and such overreactions were quickly quelled.

Catrin shrank in on herself. The deaths were all because of her. This was all her fault. Ultimately, she could be blamed for much of the problems facing the world-it was a difficult thing to accept. When Benjin arrived, her composure completely fled, and she ran to him. Sobbing into his robes, she let him lead her back to a seat.

When her tears had run their course, she looked up at him; his face was a mask of grim determination. Only the tears that slid down his cheeks gave evidence of his pain and mourning. The meeting came to a sense of order as Brother Vaughn pounded a gavel against the table, and the noise cut off all conversation.

"It is a dark day for us, brethren, but we must maintain our resolve. Two men scaled the cliffs to gain access to Ohmahold. They took the lives of two good men and our beloved Mother. This cannot be changed, and only those who committed the heinous deeds can be held responsible. They stole from us the chance to exact our preferred manner of justice, but in taking their own lives, they did justice. They admitted their guilt and removed themselves from our world."

His words were not joyful, but they kindled reason among those gathered, and some who had been so vocal at first were now abashed and subdued. Catrin leaned on Benjin's shoulder and took whatever comfort he could offer. The pain in her chest had not abated, and the throbbing was impossible to ignore, but she endured as best she could.

"In the event of her passing, Mother Gwendolin requested Sister Velona succeed her. I make the motion to enact the late Mother's wishes. What say you?" Brother Vaughn asked. The response was muted but in unanimous agreement. Sister Velona appeared stunned, as if she had been unaware of Mother Gwendolin's desires, and she was removed from the room to prepare for her ascension. In her absence, Brother Vaughn continued to moderate.

"The Cathuran order has always advocated neutrality in the affairs of the nations, but under these circumstances, we cannot remain indifferent. War is upon us. Lady Catrin's cause is to defeat the Zjhon, and I make the motion that we support her in her quest. What say you?"

Heated debates raged around the table, and Brother Vaughn let the collective sort their opinions and establish their stances before he called them to order.

"What say you?" he asked again, and the motion was approved but with little enthusiasm. Catrin could not blame them. They had suffered a tremendous loss, and none of them had known her for very long. "We all have our own preparations to make for the interment, but I suggest we form committees to handle the basic governing of Ohmahold until after Sister Velona's ascension. What say you?" This was met with almost unanimous agreement, and they proceeded to assign committees and their chairs. Catrin turned to Benjin with uncertainty in her eyes, but he was still unaware of her dire news, and she decided on her own to stand and speak out.

"Brother Vaughn and those of the Cathuran order, I request permission to address the assembly," she said, trying to honor the formalities. She flushed as every eye turned to her; the fact that hoods obscured the eyes and faces made the experience increasingly disconcerting.

"I make the motion to grant Lady Catrin the floor. What say you?" Brother Vaughn intoned, and Catrin was surprised to receive unanimous approval.

"I, too, mourn the loss of Mother Gwendolin. She was kind, and I will always cherish her memory. But I also bear distressing news that I had only just reported before…" She trailed off, not wishing to say the words, and she sensed approval. "During my time in the viewing chamber, I found its true purpose. I left my physical body and soared through the heavens." She paused as reactions rippled through the room: disbelief, wonder, distrust, and excitement all within the mixture.

"My journey took me south, where I spotted a line of pilgrims that stretched across the land. When I located their destination, I saw a great landslide and the bones of a mighty beast being excavated. It was not the bones, though, that drew the pilgrims. On the other side of the rockfall, I found a chasm, where the land had been torn apart, and within, I saw the glowing face of Istra. They are exhuming a Statue of Terhilian." Shock and horror radiated through the room, and not a sound was made for some time.

"Von of the Elsics created the statues to trick the Zjhon and the Varics into destroying themselves, and it nearly worked," one hooded figure said, and Catrin thought she recognized the voice of Sister Hanna. "Both nations gathered around what had been described as tokens of peace from the gods. Even after the destruction caused when the statues exploded, the Zjhon continued to believe the statues were truly divine-gifts from the gods themselves. They were convinced the statues weren't responsible for the devastation, rather they blamed it on nonbelievers. They'll parade the most deadly artifact ever created as if it were a trophy, a true sign of their superiority. It seems we find ourselves faced with the same debate that raged nearly three thousand years ago. Are the Statues of Terhilian divine gifts that must be honored and worshipped in order to please god and goddess, or are they gruesome weapons that will release cataclysmic forces once charged?"

Sister Hanna turned to Catrin directly. "You are certain you saw this, are you not? This is not a matter to be taken lightly. You did say the face glowed, did you not?"

Her questions hammered at Catrin's resolve, but she did the best she could to maintain grace in the face of such scrutiny. "I am certain," she said without a trace of doubt. Debate raged in the hall, and Catrin returned to her seat. Benjin cast her a questioning gaze, and she related the tale of her vision journey. He listened intently, and Catrin had to raise her voice above the din.

"Our world has become a very dangerous place indeed," Benjin said when she finished her tale.

"Agreed," Brother Vaughn said as he approached them from behind. "I apologize. I did not mean to impose upon your conversation, but I feel we should meet in private when this meeting has adjourned, which should be shortly. Please remain behind when the others depart." Catrin and Benjin nodded their assent, and Brother Vaughn returned to address the assembly. At the same time, Catrin remembered the hall.

"Brother Vaughn," she said, and he returned to her side. "I nearly forgot in the insanity of this day. I have good news as well."

"Good news would be most welcome on this otherwise lightless day," he said, and Catrin could see how drained he was. She could feel his fatigue and anguish as if it were her own. In many ways, it was. When she told him about a lost hall filled with ancient treasure, a flicker of hope crossed his visage, and he thanked her.

"Brothers and Sisters, a light shines in the darkness; we have been blessed with new hope to face the despair. I've just been informed that Lady Catrin has located a cache of ancient knowledge within Ohmahold. I make the motion that we send a committee to investigate and convene this meeting until the evening meal. What say you?"

Excitement washed over the room but was quickly subdued in the memory of their loss. Nonetheless, it was at least one good omen, and some clung to it. A committee was assigned, and Catrin found herself whisked from the hall. Brother Vaughn led the group, and she spoke to him as they walked, filling him in on the details.

"You walked into a death chamber?" he asked, incredulous.

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment," she said under Benjin's accusing glare, but when they reached the hall, she did not hesitate. She marched ahead of the group, despite the many protests. Brother Vaughn and Benjin matched her stride, and she was honored by their display of trust. Only when Brother Vaughn exclaimed, "By the heavens! So much knowledge that has been just beyond our reach," did the rest of the group edge along the hall.

Brother Vaughn visibly resisted the urge to explore and left another monk in charge of the investigation. "Come, let us slip off while the rest are occupied," he said, and Catrin followed him with Benjin on her heels.